


Afterward

by Pokypup49



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Anger, Angst, Depressing, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Loss, Riza loves Roy, Roy misses Hughes, no really... depressing, very emotional, very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 11:52:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16407992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokypup49/pseuds/Pokypup49
Summary: Days after Hughe's death. Roy grieves for his friends and dips deep into depression.Rated M because it's so depressive.





	Afterward

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the Full Metal Alchemist characters. 
> 
> WARNING: This is very depressive, emotional, and personal. I had a hard time writing it, and my husband even was reactive to the emotions here. And he's stone cold. So, please read carefully. I cried while writing it. You have been warned. *Hands readers a tissue box*

                The light peered through his blinds, illuminating with bands of light into his dark and stuffy room. He laid on his bed, face up and stiff, staring at the ceiling. If he had gotten any sleep, he didn’t remember it, and the moments of his consciousness were not organized or processed thoughts. He was stationary, floating in space, existing without mind or body. But it was unfulfilling. He stood, not bothering to stretch, and rubbed his eyes of the little crusties that had formed on his eyelids. He had a duty and obligation, and he could not allow himself the handicap of rest.

                Slouched, hungover, and bare, he stood in his doorway to the living room. He stared at it, empty as his soul. He had little food and the few dishes that he had sat dirty in the sink. His window was open, a cool morning breeze wafted in, warming the room but he couldn’t feel it. Instead, he stood there, naked and alone, and criticized himself. He wasn’t even good enough to take care of himself, like an adult. He looked down at himself and sighed heavily. He wasn’t even dressed. He, a man of honor, pride, and dedication, could not even get dressed, nor did he feel that he could. His body felt weak, useless, and void of feeling. _Would food even do any good_ , he wondered to himself as he felt his flat stomach. “Maybe, I shall go to the gym,” he argued with himself. “Maybe that will help my mood.”

                He stepped over to the window. He could hear the bustling people going about their busy lives below and he frowned at them. All happy individuals who did not know their own loss. They’d go about their lives, living in the arrogance of the sacrifices that were made. It wasn’t pity, and Roy didn’t look down on the people of Amestris as subjects. That wasn’t like him. He merely was disappointed that his loss was his own burden. “Heh,” he laughed. “It’s not like they’d understand,” he moaned, standing up and walking away.

                “A hot shower might help,” he groaned as he entered the bathroom. There, the towel hung neatly on its rack, everything set out on the sink in perfect position. He reached in to turn on the water and stared at himself in the mirror. The ghastly figure looked pitiful upon him in return. “You’ll get all the ladies in no time,” he joked to himself. “You should smile more, it makes you look less depressed.” He picked up his soap and lathered his face. It wasn’t overgrown but scruffy enough that a shave would be refreshing. The entire time, however, he stared at the man in the mirror. He knew what he saw, but he didn’t even feel that he could save even him. The water ran over his back and he closed his eyes, dreaming of sleeping, of a moment’s more of rest. It would elude him again. The water ran cold and he looked up at the showerhead with disappointment.

                It hurt. Even toweling himself dry was painful. He finally collapsed, braced himself against a wall and fought to gain composure as tears cascaded down his cheeks. He punched the wall, tightening his fist till he felt his fingers cramp. Then he stood, wiped his face on the towel, and hung it back up in its orderly fashion. “I don’t have time,” he ordered to the room. He donned his uniform, taking even less care in that. His routine of making sure it was clear of lint, polishing the buttons, and properly fitted was abandoned. It felt loose on him, and he frowned as he began to feel small in his uniform. The meaning behind it, the values that he represented in the uniform felt as empty as the space that grew between his breast and fabric. He reached for the items on the dresser. It was a plain dresser, plain as he was.  There was no special meaning behind it and he stopped to recognize that even his furniture was empty of character. First, his watch, his leash to the Furher. He placed it in his pocket. Next, he took a pair of gloves, inscribed with the flame alchemist transmutation circle. He looked at it… debating to snap with it and burning everything around him in sheer anger. But instead, he put them in his other pocket. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Maybe, I will go to the range.” He picked up a couple other things. “Let off some stress…”

                He didn’t even feel that he could smile if he wanted to. It was easier to frown and to scowl than to lie to himself and smile. His hands shook as he entered his office building and walked down the halls. He was late. Many would only argue it adds to his lackadaisical attitude, however, he never liked being late and he didn’t make it part of his character to do so. The excuses that he rattled in his brain felt unworthy and no one would understand.

                “Colonel.”

                Roy turned to see his Lieutenant walking behind him with a stack of papers. “Lieutenant,” he greeted in return. His voice hoarse and dry. “Did you find the reports I asked you for?”

                He could see the pity in her eyes. It seemed that everyone pitied him. The past week, it was as if everyone was sorry for his loss, sorry that something so tragic had to happen to such a wonderful guy. He made him rage with anger that they could look down on him, look down on Hughes’ family, and pity them. But her eyes, the pity was not for Hughes but for him. He knew that she pitied his pale skin, his dark eyes, and his shaking hands. “Have you eaten breakfast,” she asked, but with less concern than the next person. It was good of her not to call him out on his despicable condition and he felt, for the first time since his darkness, that he felt a smile rise naturally on his lips.

                “No,” he stated, trying not to let his emotions come back up. “I woke late.”

                Riza handed him a short stack of papers from the top of her stack. “Here’s the reports that I could get.” She smiled back at him for a mere second. “I do think that the cafeteria is still serving toast, Sir.”

                Roy nodded and looked at the papers. “Thank you,” he whispered and walked in the direction of the food hall. He hardly looked up as he scanned the papers. There was no wasting time. His brows frowned as he searched the papers for any clue of his friend’s murder.

                The mess hall was cleaning up upon his arrival. He’d have to go without. He quickly dismissed it, grabbing a cup of coffee, and burying his head back into the paper while he made his way to his office. Though his office was busy, bustling even, it seemed as if he was only looking in. His existence was distant and uninfluential. He watched in some sort of hollow daze as one of his officers when to another, how they laughed, threw paper balls at each other, and how they talked about their normal life. He didn’t interrupt them or join in the charades. He just watched, with dark eyes and a heavy heart. Hughes was not one of his officers. It was not like he would have normally been in his office. But he missed him as if his presence was essential to the function of his team. And it wasn’t.

                The phone rang and Roy was broken from his dreary delusion. He stared at it as it rang. His normal enthusiasm to pick it up and respond was delayed. Instead, he fought back every emotion in his body from exploding out in a violent force.  He wanted to pick it up, threw it out the window. He wanted to scream, wipe his desk clean with a swipe of his arm. He wanted to burn the bastard who stole his best friend from him. And his arm twitched at that though, as if it wanted to reach for his gloves on its own.

                “Mustang,” he said, almost monotone to the caller.

                What he didn’t see was the concerned eyes of the officer who stood behind him. She had gotten up and moved out to look out the window with the phone rang. She needed to stretch, feeling stiff from her own hard work. And when it did rang, she was the only other one who looked at it woefully. But her gaze was on him. She saw how his arms trembled, and how his jaw tightened before answering it.

                “Colonel,” Havoc called happily as he stood, grabbing his jacket. “We’re going to lunch, did you want to go?”

                Breda nodded with a boyish grin. “I heard they were making hoagie roll sandwiches for lunch! You know, the ones with the peppers!”

                “No,” Roy shook his head and waved them on. “Go ahead. I’ve got to catch up on this.”

                “Colonel,” Havoc started to argue. “Colonel, you need to eat…”

                “Go!” Roy stood up as he snapped.

                His crew stood, unaffected, and nodded. They looked at Riza who stood faithfully beside him and nodded. She nodded in return, and they left without another word.

                “They’re right, you know.”

                _Of course, she’d be the only one that would speak out and argue with me_ , he sighed to himself. But he didn’t answer her. He ignored her and opened another file. He could have told her she was relieved for lunch, told her to leave to abandon him in his sorrow, but he didn’t. He simply hoped that she’d get the message and depart on her own accord.

                “How have you been sleeping?”

                It was an innocent question, no doubt, but it felt as if the tight doors that he had locked shut were the very ones that she was trying to pry open. His fists tightened again and shook. “I’m fine,” he muttered, closing his eyes tightly.

                His lieutenant didn’t seem to think so. Riza placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. “Everyone here knows,” she whispered gently.

                He listened to her. He heard her tone, her soft, comforting tone. The three words themselves were not comforting, but her voice was. It was a blanket that enveloped him, soothing his inner demons. But it also broke his guard and broke the chains on the wall that kept him composed.

                “We’re all concerned,” she continued. “Maybe a little food might help.” She let go of him and started walking towards the door. “No one needs to know. But I will bring you back something. Just something light,” she offered. “I will lock the door, and you can sleep. I’ll wake you-“

                “I’m fine,” he repeated again, not looking up to acknowledge her.

                “Yes Sir, I know you are. But –“

                “No,” he said firmly.

                “Listen to me.” She pleaded with a soft heart and he could now hear that sympathy that everyone seemed to coddle him with. “Will you just stop abusing yourself? Hughes wouldn’t want this!” She started to raise her voice. “And you know it!”

                He still refused to look at her. Suddenly he was a young teen, being told to grow up and to stop being so selfish.

                “I’m trying to help you, damn it.”

                He took a deep breath and nodded. “Whatever makes you happy,” he said quietly, almost to the point where she had to strain to hear him. He then waved her off. He heard the door shut, and lock. He waited for a few more moments, to ensure his safety, and the safety of his dignity. But a few moments was all he had. His head dropped to the desk as his eyes squeezed shut, though the stream of tears pressed through. “Damn it, Hughes,” he cursed. “What the fuck did you mean? What do you want me to know?” He slammed his fists on the counter before flinging the papers from his desk and to the floor in anguish. “You fucking bastard,” he cried out. “I need you! I need you to call me, just fucking call me and tell me how God damn beautiful Gracia is! Tell me you have my back! Tell me that you …” He stopped as he felt his energy drained from him. _He is gone_. It was a sad attempt at comforting himself. More like, reasoning with himself, forcing himself to accept the terms of life and to move on. He needed to find the killer. Moreover, he needed to find the killer before anyone else. _They will suffer_ , he vowed. He put his hands on the back of his head and took in a deep breath. “I can’t stop now.”

                _________________________________________

                Riza didn’t normally sit with anyone at lunch. She preferred her own quite some days. She had a book that she’d been reading and planned on taking an hour of mental health refreshment and reading it, but she couldn’t focus enough. She couldn’t understand the words on the page. Her thoughts were brought back to him. Riza put her book down and frown at no one in particular. She understood his pain but feared that he was beyond comfort. He was angry, and justly so. Hughes was her friend too, although not as close as Roy was.

                Death was always in the mind of the soldier. It was an accepted part of the uniform. _To defend Amestris, with honor, till death, and with selfless valor_ … She thought about defining her role as a soldier. _We are just pawns, but it’s our duty and our honor to protect…_ the ones we love. She bit her lip and looked back down at her hands. _And he couldn’t protect him… none of us could._ She put her bookmark in her book and sipped on her coffee as she sat back, watching Fuery gather everyone’s trays. They were going to go outside for a stroll in their last minutes of the lunch break. They were mostly predictable. I'd give her a few more minutes to grab something to eat for Roy and make sure he was awake. _What happened to forge such a bond in the war, no one can replicate that feeling. Coronel just lost someone who he could relate with_ …

                She walked quickly down the hall with a half of a sandwich in her hand and a coffee in the other. She hoped that he had gotten some sleep. She hoped that he was feeling some kind of better and his own personal work of finding his friend’s murderer could be put aside. That’d rest his mind and distract him enough to cool off. As she opened the door, she peered in and noticed his head resting on its side on the desk. She smiled. He was asleep. Even it was a few minutes of sleep, it did him good.

                She rested her hand on his shoulder and shook gently. “Colonel,” she whispered. “Colonel, you need to wake up.”

                He stirred, opening his eyes and sitting up. “Damn it,” he muttered.

                “It’s okay,” she soothed. She set the sandwich down in front of him and the coffee next to it. “Here.”

                He stared at it and was about to argue it, but saw her firm look and decided to try to eat instead. She looked down and noticed wet spots on the papers, and felt her chest tighten. He had cried. The ink had smudged and spread out, making it obvious besides the moisture ripple. She reached down and gathered the papers on his desk. “Here,” she whispered. “I will make sure these are copied and taken care of.” Roy watched her before realizing why she was gathering them up but said nothing to express his appreciation. “You have a meeting in an hour. Don’t forget,” she reminded.

                Roy nodded as he chewed slowly.

                She watched as he remained emotionless. The food probably had no flavor, had no filling in his stomach. His eyes void of any emotion or attention. He just stared away. Though it had been a few days, and the funeral was over, Hughes’ absence was still present, and she wondered if he’d ever be able to fill it again. _Is it even something that should be filled_ , she debated as she started organizing papers in a folder for his meeting. _Can I ever fill that void? Will he let me fill that void?_ She stopped and looked back at him to see him at least writing something down in the stillness of the office. _Or will he fear the loss more than he will accept the intimacy?_ They always said that war changes people. But it seemed that the death of his closest friend broke him. At least in war, he had him.

                As Riza shut the folder the door swung open and Havoc, Breda, Fuery all laughed as they entered. They apparently had a good time out. They waved at Riza as she walked by them and got into a folder. “Lieutenant,” Fuery called. “Did you hear that Johanssen’s bill?”

                Riza looked up and shook her head.

                “Yeah, I guess he lost his rifle last week during some drills,” Breda continued the joke. “He got charged 102 cenz!”

                Riza nodded. “He’s lucky that was all.” She snickered.

                “Yeah, well, I’m just glad he didn’t lose a tank!” Fuery laughed.

                “Well, the most responsible tanks are sent up North to Briggs.” Havoc snickered. “You’ll wish they charged you a tank’s worth if you lost one!”

                Riza smiled at their humor and gave Havoc some papers. “I’ll stay a sniper,” she agreed. She glanced at Roy to see if he was at least smiling at their humor, but he was still looking down, writing something. She didn’t even think he knew they existed.

                He arrived home later than anticipated. He finished his own work only to stay late and go through some more papers that he thought Hughes was looking through prior to his murder. He looked through them, and then again, and then again. He couldn’t focus, he could hold a solid thought. All he could see was dearest Elicia, crying, cuddled up to Gracia, alone. He sipped his coffee and threw the papers on his desk. He rubbed his face a few times before pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing heavily. That is when he decided to go home. Home to what? There was nothing there for him either. But there he stood, this time clothed, in the center of his kitchen, looking at a pile of dirty dishes. The darkness enveloped him, drowning him in what he felt was a sea of hopelessness. He’d never find his friend’s killer. He’d never amount to anything, and he’d never forgiven himself.

                He stripped his uniform, making sure to put the items in his pockets orderly on the dresser, and to hang it up so that it didn’t get wrinkly. Roy sat down on his bed and looked down at his hands. He rubbed them together, feeling something for the first time. He lifted his right hand in front of him, poised to snap, staring at his hand intensely. The pressure built under his fingers and he pressed them together. His brows dipped angerly to the center, and his eyes squinted and glared hard. His breathing deepened, and he felt his jaw become tight and stiff, his teeth gritting against each other. His whole body was tightening, all into this snap. Then… he snapped. His body relaxed in an instant, Roy’s face going back to its emotionless void, and he fell back onto the bed.

                Then he was there. The room was filled with laughter, with all of them together, dressed in suits and dresses, cheering, toasting, and in the most pleasant mood. Roy himself felt elevated. Though he did feel a bit surreal, he felt welcomed. The scene was familiar. He looked to his side as a hand landed on his shoulder.

                “Are you drinking by yourself again?” His glasses shined back at Roy, but his boyish grin was trademark.

                “You know me too well.”

                Hughes laughed as he wrapped his arm around Roy and shook him a bit. “You’re too depressive! It’s a celebration! Can’t you be happy just once?” He turned to wave at another soldier. “Come over here and show these morons how to play cards!”

                Roy snickered as he debated the offer.

                “Did you hear about Gracia?” Hughes got close to his friend’s face. “She’s coming back from her Aunt’s house tomorrow. We have dinner planned!”

                Roy pulled from his friend. “I don’t need to hear about your plans with your girlfriend,” he dismissed.

                “Roy,” Hughes shook him with excitement. “I’m going to ask her to marry me! Do you think she’s going to say yes?”

                Roy grinned. “Marry you? What kind of hero do you think you are? If she was looking for a real man, she’s more than welcome to out with me.”

                Hughes jumped back, horrified. “How can you say that?” He instantly started pouting. “I thought we were friends.”

                Roy turned to the side and raised his glass of whiskey to his best friend. “To a new start,” he toasted.

                Hughes lifted his beer. “To a new start!”

                The music seemed to rise in volume and Roy followed Hughes to the card table. He remembered a night like this once before, and how happy he was. This may have been the last time he was truly happy. It was before the desk work and before his obligations to others. This has to be a dream, he thought, bringing back his melancholy. He looked at Hughes, red-nosed and singing, and smiled. Roy leaned against a post in the bar and looked around him, stopping his gaze on a young blonde-haired woman. She turned, looked back at Roy, her brown eyes making his heart flutter in his chest. The familiar arm wrapped around Roy’s neck and a boisterous laugh filled his ears.

                “Go for it,” he encouraged. “Even you deserve to be happy!”

                He woke early, feeling sore. His shoulders ached, and his chest felt as if Full Metal had punched him in the chest. He itched his eyes and sat up noticing that the sun was just rising. He’d woken up too early but going back to sleep was barely an option. That didn’t mean that he had to really move from bed. Instead, he stayed there, staring at the ceiling, debating what his dream meant. Moreover, why did he wake up? If he was happy where he was, why couldn’t he stay there? Wasn’t life but a dream? But Roy couldn’t make life what he wanted of it. He had to abide by laws, the order of the world. A slight twinge came to mind for him to get a philosopher stone himself, but he quickly dismissed it and sat up. “No good will come of it,” he told himself. It was admitting the truth. What would be ever accomplished? He sighed and stood up, rolling his shoulder one at a time. He’d have to find justice.

                He walked to the sink, looking down in it at the days' old dishes. There they were again. Roy frowned. Why shouldn’t he do them? It’d give him something to feel accomplished. But instead, he turned back to go back into his bedroom. Just as he started towards the bathroom a light tapping came from his door and he stopped, peaking at it curiously.

                “Colonel,” he heard a call from the door with another knock.

                Roy frowned as he wondered what she was doing there. He grabbed some shorts that were in his dirty laundry and slipped them on as he reached the door. He opened it, seeing his faithful lieutenant with a paper bag.

                “Good Morning,” she said evenly. “Did I wake you?”

                Roy shook his head, stepping aside to let her in.

                “I was hoping that you got more sleep tonight,” she said casually and walked to the table and putting the bag down. She turned and looked Roy up and down. “You’re sober, that’s a good start.”

                “What are you doing here,” he asked, his voice dry.

                “Colonel, I’m here to help.”

                “I don’t need help.”

                Riza stopped him from walking past her and into his room. “We all don’t need help, but it’s nice to have it sometimes.”

                Roy glared at her. “What do you know about this?”

                “He was my friend too,” she whispered.

                Roy let out a deep breath and looked away from her.

                “I’ve been going over to see Gracia,” Riza admitted, putting her hand on Roy’s chest and stepping more in front of him. “I think you seeing her would be good.”

                Roy bit his lip to keep it from quivering.

                “She asked how you were doing,” Riza continued. “She asked if you needed anything.”

                _God_ , He thought angerly. _Hughes’ whole fucking family is selfless, just like him!_

                “I think that it’s really nice for you to make sure that she’s taken care of,” Riza patted his chest. “That’s just like a good friend,” she smiled. Her other hand reached up to sup his face and steer it so that she could see his eyes. “She said thank you.”

                Roy looked down at Riza. His eyes watered, and he frowned as he held his breath. “I can’t do this,” he admitted as he breathed out.

                Riza guided his head down to hers, and their foreheads touched as tears began to flow easily out of his eyes. “Yes, you can,” she whispered softly. “We just got to get you past this.” He allowed her hands to weave into his hair, stroking outward as he wept. His head fell against her shoulder and she pulled him into herself. “It’s okay,” she kept whispering, but she knew that he didn’t feel okay.

                Roy felt his whole body fall into hers. He’d been holding back for days, trying to stay focused and get other things done. But now, he was undone. “He’s gone,” he cried lowly into her shoulder. His body trembled, his arms wrapped around her as he sobbed. He felt vulnerable, exposed, as he opened his desecrated act of emotions to her. Suddenly he was 8, and had hurt his arm, and was crying in his foster mother’s bosom. His manhood, his ability to hide, suppress, and to be strong were stripped from him and he was left naked and cold in the abyss of sorrow. But it was her hand, as it caressed in tiny circles on his back, that caused an awakening of the mind. It was the fact that he could suddenly smell her, suddenly feel her, and feel her warmth. Her voice was lavender, waving gently in the spring fields, growing a calming aroma of peace. He coughed a few times as he moved to wipe his eyes.

                “Come,” she whispered. Her tender touch of his elbow gave way to any argument he may have had. Though normally he would traditionally have been the one to be giving orders, now, he obliged and allowed her to take him where she pleased.

                The morning was fulfilling. Certainly, it helped to have Riza there. While he showered, she did the dishes. He stepped out, wrapping a towel around him and smelled the fresh coffee that filling his apartment. In the past week, his apartment showed no sign of life. There was little movement, little improvement, and little action done here. It was dark, stuffy, and plain. As he peeked out of his door and into the kitchen, he saw her unwrapping some croissants from some paper and putting it on a plate. She’d been to the bakery, at this hour. He raised his eyebrows.

                “Feeling better,” she asked over her shoulder, setting out the plates on his little table.

                “Yeah,” he said with a nod. He turned, grabbing his clothes, and retreated back into the bathroom to finish his routine. He listened to her movements in the kitchen. It was something that he was not used to. He didn’t have women over at his house, cleaning, and making him breakfast. He wondered for a second if he was in that bad of shape, that his home was that out of control. Though he was usually organized, maybe he had let himself go.

                Roy approached his plain dresser, picking up his State watch. He looked at it, inspecting it. He turned to look at his gloves, still sitting out, laid out picturesque. This was his resolution. This was how he was going make it right.

                Riza watched him from the doorway as he stared intensely at his watch. She leaned against the doorframe as she saw his eyes change. They went from sad, to determined, to the Roy that she knew and loved. He shoved the watch in his pocket, then grabbed his gloves and shoved them quickly in his other pocket. He turned to her, with the fire back in his eyes.

                Breakfast, even if it was a croissant, was fulfilling and it felt good. “Thank you,” He said between his sips of coffee.

                Riza nodded as she gathered her plate and started washing them in the sink.

                Roy watched as she set the plate on a towel and wiped the countertop. He watched as she, effortlessly, went about her activities. He’d always considered her beautiful, but now, in this sense, she was smooth and elegant. He became locked in a trance, watching her move from one place to another without error. If there was anyone else here, he thought happily for the first time in days, they would not be able to achieve such beauty as Riza does. And although she did catch him staring at her, she only gently smiled back. She then grabbed her jacket and put it on.

                “Alright, Sir.” She handed him his jacket. “Where are we going first? We have a full day’s itinerary.” Roy took the jacket and put it on slowly, nodding as he started thinking about all the crap that he had to work through. As he reasoned with himself for a second, Riza opened her notebook and handed the list to him. He looked over it for a second before indicating for a pen. Riza looked shocked for a second. It was not like her Coronel to add work to his load at all and she looked at him with full curiosity. He silently handed her the list back and moved past her to open the door.

                _See Gracia and Elicia_

                Roy held the door for Riza as they exited and walked down the hall. He stood just a little straighter, which Riza would consider a success, and he was picking up his feet rather than dragging them. They started down the stairs and into the street.

                “Lieutenant,” he said as he approached his car. “Please make a note to have Sheska pull any book that Hughes had looked through up to three days before his death, and any personal journals that have been submitted.”

                Riza nodded and wrote down a note before getting in the car.

                The hardest part was knocking. He must have stood in front of the door for a few minutes before Riza shoved past him and knocked for him. He looked shocked but instantly heard little pads of feet rushing to the door before it swung open.

                “Daddy?”

                Roy’s heart felt a million needles stab themselves into his heart.

                “Good Morning, Colonel Mustang,” Gracia greeted as she walked up to the door. Both Gracia and Elicia looked well. He thought they'd be looking worse, and maybe they did from their normal days, or maybe they were on aupswingng too.

                “Good Morning, Mrs. Hughes,” Roy nodded. “I thought I’d come by and make sure that you and Elicia were doing well.”

                “Lieutenant,” Gracia turned to greet Riza. “Come in. I was just putting some breakfast down. You look like you could eat.”

                They sat down, Elicia bringing out a doll to show Riza, who had, in turn, sat down on the floor with her to play.

                “Are you doing okay,” Roy asked as he sipped the coffee. “Can I bring you anything?”

                Gracia shook her head with a gentle smile. Roy knew why Maes was in love with her. She was graceful, gentle, and so loving. He had never seen her un-composed. “We are doing very well,” she insisted. She sat down and turned to see Riza and Elicia with the dolls. “It’s hard. I won’t deny it.”

                Roy nodded and ran his hand through his hair. “I apologize,” he whispered. “I thought that I was the only one dealing with his death so hard.” He chuckled nervously as he lowed his gaze to his coffee. “I have to give it to you. You look a lot better than me. You sound better than me. And I have to remember that he loved you more than me.”

                Gracia reached out, placing her hand on his arm. “Roy,” she said softly. “He did love you. I know he did because he dedicated himself to you and your ambitions.”

                Roy looked up at her, squinting nervously.

                Gracia laughed. “You can’t tell yourself that spouses don’t talk!” She patted his forearm and looked down at Riza and her daughter. “He was an exemptional man,” she nodded. Roy finally noticed her eyes beginning to tear. “And he will not be forgotten.”

                Roy sat up straight and nodded. “Mrs. Hughes,” he declared boldly. “I will find Mae’s killer. I will find them. And I will punish them, so help me! I will not allot his death to be in vain, nor will his murder go suppressed.” He stood up and nodded. “Mrs. Hughes, if you need anything, you contact me or my Lieutenant.”

                Gracia smiled gently. “Thank you, Colonel.”

                As Roy and Riza said their goodbyes, they stepped into the hall. The door shut behind them and Roy started down the hall towards the stairs. He stopped for a moment, turning to look behind him at Riza.

                “Are you with me?” His voice was deep and confident.

                Riza stood up straight, at attention and nodded. “To the end, Sir!”

                Roy Mustang knew that it wasn’t going to be an instant fix. He may feel good today, but tomorrow and the day after could be different. He just needed to take one day at a time. But he smiled as he stood in front of Riza. He still had to get to the top. He had to stay motivated. And she was going to be there with him. He wasn’t so alone as he felt.

               

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I at least ended it on an "up" note. You can call relax now. I had this in my head for a while and just needed to get it out. I hope that everyone made it through without too much mental anguish. If anything, blame my literary teacher for making me read Tolstoy. Please tell me what you think.


End file.
